


The Kiss of Marseille

by Psychological_Top



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:15:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25359055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psychological_Top/pseuds/Psychological_Top
Summary: Hermione and Fleur stumble upon a group of activists in Marseille, but their method of protesting back causes certain tensions in their friendship. AU. Fleurmione.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Comments: 28
Kudos: 187





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! This is another idea that popped into my head, and I am going to try and do my first multi-chapter story for you all. "The Kiss of Marseille" is a real thing that happened ten(ish) years ago, and I always thought it was super cute, but alas, our heroes are just lovely straight allies doing the lawd's gay work. I let my imagination run wild once with this pairing and of course just had to try it out. So, onto the story!
> 
> Heads up on characters here: Hermione is just, well, Hermione. Fleur is pretty antsy at first. I wanted to make her really sexual and predatory still without having the whole Veela thing to work with. I just like her a bit hot and bothered (don't we all?), but there will be lots of sexual energy coming from both of them eventually.
> 
> I don't own these characters, or make any profit from this.
> 
> Lastly, I make no promises on timely updates having never done this before. This won't be more than 5-6 chapters most likely just to keep it manageable. I don't know how you guys do these 30-40 chapter novels, but I humbly bow to your tenacity.
> 
> French = bold
> 
> Thoughts = italics

Fleur was happily sipping her coffee in the kitchen in the late morning when her roommate finally decided to grace her with her presence. Hermione Granger, an exchange student from England, was her fortunate guest for a few summer months as she worked in the research department at L'University Aix-Marseille. Fleur, a doctoral student at the same school, decided to make use of her spare bedroom, and was pleasantly surprised by how much she and the younger brunette got along. Hermione was exceedingly bright, and they both found the new living situation favourably uncomplicated, for they seemed to like the same things and managed their own spaces respectfully.

"What are your plans today, mon amie?" Fleur asked, as Hermione reached for a mug for her tea.

"Mmm," she said, groggily, "I was going to run to the market in town to pick up some things for dinner. Would you like to join me?"

"I would love to. I will get us some more wine from Claire."

The two girls took off an hour later. Fleur was dressed in her usual casual attire—dark blue jeans, a chic blouse, and a thin overcoat with a scarf. She looked like a model, as always, with her flowing blonde hair, delicate features, and deep blue eyes. Hermione was also sporting her usual get-up—black jeans, a plain maroon shirt, and black leather jacket. Her hair, normally wild and out of place, was in a fashionable bun. The roommates made their way to the market in town. Hermione was happy to chat in French to the vendors, asking for various items of produce for her planned dinner tonight. She loved this feeling. The French way of life was so simple; you eat good food, drink good wine, and share it with people you love. It was a painfully romantic way of life, and it made her wary of returning to Britain in a month's time. She loved every day that she spent here. Not only was her roommate drop-dead gorgeous, but she was caring and intelligent. They already had countless evenings debating the latest research in molecular biology, physics, and medical technology—topics that they both had no difficulty understanding in depth. When they weren't theorising on current research, they were reading or watching old French films, per Hermione's request. She was determined to be fluent by the end of the summer. It really had been a marvellous summer.

Fleur was making her way back to the brunette, two bottles of wine in tow. She caught the woman speaking animatedly in French with Stephan, the best produce vendor in all of Marseille, in her opinion.

**"The mushrooms last week were delicious! The risotto you suggested was perfect! Thank you!"**

**"Not a problem, Hermione! I am glad you liked it,"** Stephan replied, handing her a small paper bag. Fleur smiled, she was incredibly proud of her friend for pushing herself to learn the native language. She was a natural, of course. Her roommate could hardly fail at anything she put her mind to.

 **"Are you ready?"** Fleur asked Hermione, thinking they should make their way back to the apartment.

"Oui, let's go. À bientôt, Stephen!" The brunette said, before the two ambled back to their home on the small cobbled streets of the city centre. Deep in discussion about the latest research in protein synthesis, the woman barely noticed the increasingly pink environment around them. As Hermione looked around curiously, she saw hundreds of women ahead of them in bright pink t-shirts. There were holding signs and sitting on the side of road. Evidently, there was a protest of some sort going on.

Seeing hundreds of people fighting for change and equality excited Hermione, and she was eager to see what they were standing against. As they got closer, however, she felt Fleur stiffen beside her as they could now read the signs.

_Une papa, une maman!_

_"_ C'est ridicule," Fleur all but growled next to her.

"What is this?" Hermione asked, still trying to catch on.

"It is a group of women who are against same-sex marriage. They are protesting a new bill for marriage equality," she replied angrily, now muttering swear words in French.

"Oh, well that's not very nice! What do they care if two people want to get married? What a ridiculous thing to be protesting about." Hermione exclaimed, now getting angry as well. Britain had issues with this in the past, but thankfully she had never come across it personally.

The women ahead chanted in French, "Une papa, une maman!" over and over, gathering more attention as a crowd began forming. Hermione and Fleur stood there at a distance, growing increasingly angry as the group continued to grow and chant.

_Une papa, une maman!_

_Une papa, une maman!_

_Une papa, une maman!_

_Une papa, une maman!_

The girls' eyes burned with intensity at the scene. They had gay friends and family members, of course, and hated to see this kind of injustice. Hermione quickly made up her mind, and grabbed the blonde's hand, dragging her towards the crowd. "Come on," she said, pulling her along.

Fleur was glad to fight against this type of blatant bigotry. She found it absurd that people still cared about who someone fell in love with. She didn't quite understand what Hermione was hoping to accomplish by yelling at the group ahead, but hey, their day was open! The girls quickly made their way through the crowd, bobbing and weaving between the French women to get to the centre of the protest. As Hermione slowed, she let go of Fleur's hand and turned around. They were now completely surrounded by protestors in pink. Since the girls were not in similar attire, it seemed the protesters knew they were out of place, and they directed their vicious words at the young women. Fleur was still waiting for Hermione to start yelling back. She was, after all, an eloquent and academic woman who could damage anyone's ego after a few minutes of debate. Fleur knew firsthand.

Hermione did not spare a look at the protestors, however, and Fleur was beginning to get agitated by the yelling around her. Why had her roommate dragged her into this if they weren't going to fight back? Were they just going to stand here in the sea of pink as a visual disturbance? Suddenly she saw Hermione drop her shopping bags and take a few steps towards her with a fierce look in her eyes. Fleur saw her come closer, and felt her put her hand under jaw before shifting her eyes down to her mouth. Fleur was surprised, but understood immediately what she was supposed to do, as she dropped her bags onto the ground, hearing her wine bottles breaking. _Oh well, all for the cause_ , she thought, until she felt lips against hers that is, and then suddenly she couldn't think at all.

Hermione's lips felt impossibly soft against hers, and she felt a tongue gently demanding access, and so she relented. They deepened their kiss, and Fleur moaned against her roommate's mouth in surprise. She had never kissed a woman before, and she felt like her body was awake for the first time. As she felt a hand grab a fistful of her hair she deepened the kiss even further, reaching her arms around Hermione's neck. She couldn't get close enough, and she vaguely registered there was a point to doing this, but she can't quite remember now. All she knew was the tongue that tasted like strawberries dancing against her own felt right, and the arms that held her were familiar and safe. She wasn't sure where she ended and Hermione began, but she wanted more. She gasped and moaned again as she felt teeth gently biting her lower lip.

Hermione had no idea how long they had been kissing, but she found she did not care. The plush lips against her own were proving to be the most addictive thing she had ever had the pleasure of tasting, and she couldn't bear to leave them. She loved hearing the small moans coming from the vocal Frenchwoman. She felt arms around her neck, encouraging her as she deepened the kiss. She bit gently against the woman's lips, her core temperature rising at the low growl she elicited. As they moved together, Hermione thought this was no doubt her most passionate kiss when she tapped back into the scene around her. The eery silence, along with what sounded like a camera flashing, woke her up out of her euphoria and she slowed her ministrations against Fleur's mouth, softly pressing a final kiss to her swollen lips. She opened her eyes to find Fleur's deep blue already staring intently at her. _She has never looked so beautiful,_ Hermione thought.

The crowd surrounding them had grown quiet at the women's display of affection, and now openly glared daggers at the two as they untangled from each other. She could hear a few insults from the back of the group slung at them, but Fleur could hardly care to hear them. She could only see the amber eyes of her roommate in front of her. She saw so much swimming inside of them; desire, panic, adventure…something more, maybe? Fleur couldn't look away. Hermione seemed to recover first, and she grabbed her shopping bags and the blonde's hand, pulling her away from the crowd that was increasing in volume again. They two briskly walked away and around the corner, where Hermione stopped and leaned against the wall, exhaling heavily as she closed her eyes.

Fleur was still only functioning on about three brain cells after their kiss as she eyed the woman in front of her. Hermione was panting with her eyes closed against a creme-coloured wall. The shouts of the protesters could still be heard in the distance. Fleur watched the rise and fall of Hermione's chest as she tried to calm her breathing down. She greedily observed her now. The small splash of freckles across her flushed cheeks, her swollen pink lips, her hair beginning to fall around her face. _How did I not see before?_ she thought, with a sinking feeling in her gut.

Hermione opened her eyes finally, and moved off the wall to awkwardly stand in front of her.

"Erm, I'm sorry about that. I just thought it might give a bigger rise from them than if we just yelled," she said sheepishly.

 _Of course,_ thought Fleur. How foolish could she be? Hermione was just making a point for the protesters. There was no alternative motive or meaning to it, that was the point. It was okay for two girls to kiss, what did it matter? Who really cares? And who cares that she felt fireworks going off in her bloodstream when Hermione bit her lip? Not her, definitely. No, it was just a kiss.

Fleur forced a small laugh, "It's okay, 'Ermione. I think we did a good job of showing them, non?"

Hermione visibly relaxed, and laughed with the blonde at the situation. Truth be told, she had no idea what to think. She really did just want to make a statement in the sea of protestors. Two straight(ish?) girls kissing in front of a crowd of anti-gay women seemed like a great idea, but she didn't realise the actual kiss would be the only thing she remembered.

The two roommates slowly made their way back to Fleur's apartment in silence, each determined not to bring up what just happened, yet both wholly ignorant of the other's racing heartbeat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without further ado, chapter two! Enjoy some angst.

The days went by in unrest. Hermione knew her time in the country was coming to an end as her research stint was in its final month. Fleur had become increasingly distant over the past four days. Nice, but almost too nice. Too polite, and unfeeling in every interaction. It irked Hermione, but perhaps she had overestimated the extent of their friendship. The catalyst had been the kiss—this she knew for certain. Everything was going so well until Hermione decidedly crossed a line in the sand by kissing her. And Fleur apparently did not take well to it. The worst part was the media attention, Hermione assumed. Not only did she cross a line by kissing her publicly, but a photographer for a major media outlet happened to capture photos of the intimate interaction.

"The Kiss of Marseille" was published globally now, and the two anonymous women were idolised and heralded as a force against the oppressive factions trying to stem the flow of progress and equality. Which was great, of course. They did what she intended; they made a statement. The problem was the statement had now turned her lovely roommate into an indifferent and wholly _uninterested_ acquaintance. And Hermione was…well, interested. She couldn't stop thinking about the kiss. The fact that everywhere she walked there were newspapers and magazines displaying their passionate moment was not helping. And considering Fleur's distance since the ordeal, the picture was misleading it seemed. The two women were in a tight embrace, with Hermione's hands cupping the blonde's face, while Fleur had her arms wrapped around her neck. She seemed to be leaning into it, pressing further into the brunette's lips. Hermione thought perhaps she was reading far too much into one moment in time because it was obvious her roommate did not enjoy it from her reaction. The best part about the photo, admittedly, was the crowd behind them. The sea of women dressed in pink shirts had looks of anger, outrage, and disgust at their display. If there was one good thing that came out of this situation, it was the looks on their faces.

 _Maybe not,_ she conceded, as the woman responsible for her silent torment walked past her in the kitchen with an air of avoidance. This was nothing new these days. They were like magnets of the same charge, always circling and repelling one another. She would avoid rooms where the brunette was, and stopped walking her to classes. Their movie nights were so sparse, and dinners were so quiet and awkward it was a wonder they still carried on with them. Hermione was lost in thought again when Fleur broke the thick silence.

"'Ermione, we need to either go to the market for dinner or figure something else out," she said, still avoiding eye contact with the brunette.

"Uh, yeah, yeah I can sort it out. No problem," Hermione responded lamely.

"Bon," and she walked away.

 _Christ, you'd think we actually slept together or something_ , Hermione thought, which she absolutely should not have done as her overactive brain took off with visual scenarios. She was already having mild fantasies about furthering their encounter. What would have happened if they weren't in public, surrounded by homophobic arseholes? She didn't know, but she was sulky with the realisation she would likely never find out. She would find herself at the kitchen table staring at Fleur's full lips and neck while they sat in palpable silence. She wanted to kiss her again. Nibble at her neck. She would eye her collarbones, the swell of the top of her breasts, her thighs in her silky, sinful nightdresses. She wished those long legs were wrapped around her. She wanted to— no. She took a deep breath. She had to stop these erotic thoughts. Her roommate made her feelings clear, and now Hermione needed to respect her desire for space. If there was anything Hermione Granger could do well it was compartmentalise, and that's all this was. She just needed to remember her friend's wishes and force these unfamiliar thoughts to the recesses of her mind.

Unbeknownst to the distressed brunette, Fleur was also battling her own internal beasts. She could barely keep her composure in front of Hermione since the incident. She was actually angry about the whole scenario. She wanted Hermione so badly it was painful whenever she was near. She would sometimes catch her staring at her, likely in a state of regret—maybe disgust—and she would avert her eyes from the brilliant gaze to not give herself away. She knew her eyes would foil her façade. She was besotted. Truly. Every movement the brunette made was now, suddenly, extremely sexual. Since when did hands become arousing to her? She would watch Hermione make coffee in the mornings, or set the cutlery, or even just flip through her research papers. Her hands were so calculatingly gentle and all she could fucking think about was them on her body and twisting in her hair again. She had probably relived their kiss a thousand times in her head. She had definitely masturbated to it a few dozen times. Sadly, she honestly just wished the woman would go home already. She wasn't sure how long she could keep up this icy exterior without combusting from sexual frustration, and she felt ashamed. She knew Hermione was such a gift as a friend. She was so smart, caring, and passionate. But the blonde was no fool. She knew what was happening the moment she opened her eyes after their kiss, and she couldn't kid herself any longer that she wanted to remain friends. So silence was the answer. Distance. Distraction. Anything to keep from giving in to her infernal cravings.

 _It's for the best,_ Fleur thought, as she folded some of her laundry on top of her plush duvet. She found herself in her room more often now, trying to avoid the talkative temptress in her living room at all costs. She was laying her underwear into a neat pile when she hear a knock at the door.

"Fleur?" Hermione asked, carefully poking her head around the open doorframe.

 _God dammit._ "Oui?"

"I just…I feel like maybe we should talk about the other day," she started, rocking back on her heels with her hands deep in the pockets of her boyish blue chinos.

"Talk about what, 'Ermione?" Fleur asked, buying herself some time. She did not want to talk about this. _Not now, please. Please._ She was already having such difficulty with keeping her cool around the brunette, and now she was in her room with her cute outfit and demeanour and wild hair coming loose from her bun to frame her stupid, beautiful face.

"I think you know what," the brunette said courageously, stepping further into her room. Fleur had tensed once she felt her presence behind her. Hermione knew she had to tread carefully with this conversation, but she really just wanted her friend back so they didn't have to leave on such rocky terms. She was done with this cycle of awkwardness, and she would get the blonde to hear her out if she had to pin her down and make her listen. _Wait, what? No, avoid skin contact, Hermione. Get a hold of yourself._

"Look, I want to talk about what happened the other day, and tell you that I am sorry I put in that predicament. I know you aren't interested in women like that, and I kind of just launched into this…thing before really thinking about the consequences. So, I apologise for not asking you first, and for kissing you when you clearly didn't want that." Hermione finished in a strong tone, determined that her apology not sound wishy-washy.

"And are you?" she finally asked after a few moments.

"Am I what?"

"Interested in women like that?" Fleur questioned, still determined not to look at the younger woman.

"Oh…Oh! Um, no? I don't…I don't think I am interested in _women_ , per se, no," she rambled. How could she explain that she hadn't actually been interested in women until she felt the blonde's moan vibrate against her lips? And it wasn't multiple women, technically, though the more she thought about it she wouldn't be opposed to it. She truly just hadn't noticed anyone else for days but the Goddess standing before her, folding her delicate lingerie into a small pile. _God almighty, have mercy on my soul_ , she groaned internally, trying not to picture her wearing it.

Fleur was silent for what felt like a full minute, continuing to fold her clothes with her back facing the brunette. Whatever creature had awakened inside her was screaming at her to turn around, ravish the woman of her nightly fantasies, and make her feelings known. The rational part of her knew that would not help her, however. She would only end up rejected, dejected, and even more frustrated than she is now. No, she knew Hermione was right to try to start over, and she had to just suck it up and go along with it.

Steeling herself, the blonde turned around to finally look at her nervous roommate.

"Okay, I accept your apology, 'Ermione, though I don't think it is needed. There was a purpose in…participating, and I am not ashamed of that. Quite the opposite, in fact. I-I…," Fleur was struggling to explain this without giving herself away. "I suppose I need to apologise as well. I have not been myself the past few days and I have been taking it out on you. It was nothing you did and I am sorry for my behaviour." Lies, lies, lies.

Hermione was surprised to learn she was not the reason for the blonde's recent avoidance, but she not want to delve further into it.

"Oh, well thank you for your apology as well. I didn't realise there was more going on. If you ever want to talk about it I'm always here."

"Merci, but I think I need to figure it out on my own," the blonde replied softly, directing her gaze anywhere but the honey orbs she knew would be filled with loving concern.

"Okay, well, maybe do you want to order takeout tonight instead of cooking? We can watch a film like old times?" the younger woman asked.

"Oui, that would be nice I think. Pick whatever you'd like," she replied. _Please just get out of my room and away from my bed._

"Okay, are you feeling Italian or that Lebanese place we had last time?" the brunette asked, moving towards the door.

A few more moments elapsed before Fleur responded, looking directly into Hermione's eyes.

"I could go both ways, 'Ermione," she said before she walked out, leaving the brunette cemented in place still staring at her bloody lingerie.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is here! A little longer this time, and a lot more sexual so reader beware I guess. Enjoy!

Another few days passed and Fleur was certain she was going mad. Since the two roommates had made-up from their apparent "miscommunication," the brunette was now back to hanging around her all the time. Somehow, she had never noticed their physical relationship before, but it seemed the younger woman was constantly touching her in some way or another and it was driving her absolutely insane. Small touches to her lower back when she was passing by in the kitchen; squeezing her forearm when she said something funny; pushing a lock of her golden hair behind her ear when her hands were full. Every time she felt those soft hands against her she would freeze up and her breath would hitch. She reached a point where she started fantasising about these simple encounters. She pictured what would happen if Hermione suddenly discovered she was a raging lesbian who could see no one but her, and then the two would topple backwards over the couch in an effort to rip each other's clothes off or passionately fuck in the hallway, too impatient to make it to the bedroom at the end of the hallway. It was shameful to admit how many times she had now touched herself to the thought of the bright woman.

She so wished she could just act on these impulses! She had never felt such a strong desire for someone and she knew it was more than a simple "curiosity." She wanted the younger woman physically, emotionally, spiritually. She wanted to consume her and have her all to herself. She wanted to talk to her all day and make love to her all night. Fleur rarely became infatuated. She had always been the object of infatuation, and the new feeling was upheaving her usually calm demeanour. Her sense of self was all gone. She couldn't actually remember a time where she reacted so strongly to someone, but she knew it was all in or all out. Where this possessiveness came from, she had no idea, but the thought of Hermione with anyone else suddenly made her want to burn down every standing building in the city. So no, Fleur wasn't doing well with the newest arrangement, and she was even more ashamed to admit she had started touching Hermione back since there was now an opening to be a little more flirtatious. She knew this would get her nowhere, quickly. In her head she convinced herself that this whole debacle would end soon anyways, so the more she had for her spank bank without giving herself away, the better she would feel. It was fucked up, she knew. She started sitting closer to her during their movie nights and pretending to fall asleep in her lap out of sheer, pathetic need. She started taking an active interest in her hair under the cover of trying to tame it. Hermione would be reading quietly in the armchair and she would tut and start to braid her already perfect curls, making sure to touch the woman's neck and ears as often as she possibly could. A few times she even thought she saw her shudder, but she couldn't be sure.

Currently watching her tormentor out of the corner of her eye as she readied dinner, Fleur was determined to behave herself this evening. She had become bolder in her flirtations, she knew, but she couldn't help herself. She needed to back off or she would find herself in more uncomfortable conversations in which her feelings would be unreciprocated. As she watched on, the brunette was reaching up to the top cabinet shelf to grab some plates as her shirt slipped up to reveal a band of tanned skin above her low-riding waistband. The blonde could see the white band of Calvin Klein underwear underneath and she gripped her wine glass dangerously tight in a shaking hand. _I'm a fucking mess_ , she thought angrily, as she stood abruptly to refill her wine. Tonight she would definitely have to let out this energy, again.

Hermione set the table and they ate quickly, both secretly eager to move to the couch. The wine consumption was going to be a problem. The more Fleur drank the more she knew she would let her inhibitions go. Some sick part of her, intent on destruction, poured another glass fully knowing she would start making bolder advances, but that the inebriation would somehow absolve her responsibility. She was so screwed.

The two sat oddly close for platonic roommates. As the movie started Hermione shifted a little so her arm was now resting on the backrest of the couch behind Fleur's head. The dark room flitted every so often in light and colour as the moving picture continued. Fleur wasn't paying attention at all. For the past ten minutes she had been staring at the corner of the television, willing herself not to move closer and press her leg against the other woman's.

 _Just do it, it's friendly,_ the devil inside her whispered. She took another classless gulp of wine and was about to move before her roommate turned to look at her.

"Do you mind if I play with you hair?" the brunette asked, rolling a small lock between the pads of her fingers as if to test it out.

The blonde didn't respond, she just slowly shook her head, keeping eye contact as Hermione began twirling more golden tresses around her index finger. She looked away, and continued to feign indifference, but her heart was leaping against her ribcage, and the cunning monster in her chest was purring in victory. The movie progressed, and Fleur still had no clue what was going on. Was this an action? Romance? No idea. All she could think about was Hermione's hands in her hair. It seemed her roommate was becoming more comfortable in her touches, but they were driving the blonde up the wall. At least she didn't seem to notice the reaction she was having. The brunette was staring intently at the screen with her back straight the whole time as fingers would scratch at the base of her neck. Fleur's eyes had started rolling back in her head when she grabbed a larger portion of hair and tugged slightly. She was in heaven, but God was she on fire. It was becoming more of a head massage at this point, and her poor roommate had no idea that these friendly caresses were resulting in a physical reaction that was exceptionally not friendly. Every time she felt scratches to her neck a jolt of electricity would run straight to her core. She could feel the dampness in her underwear. Her face and chest were probably scalding to the touch. She was extremely thankful the room was mostly dark.

A particularly hard tug at the back of her head had Fleur swallowing a moan with great difficulty. She snapped her head back up and tried to refocus. She needed to come back to reality and she needed this god forsaken film to end! The amount of energy it took to _not_ move her body in reaction was astounding. She was desperate to let herself cry out and kiss the woman beside her causing this sweet torture. Knowing it had been less than an hour, she had to make a decision. The creature inside her begged her to stay, but she knew she was on the edge of restraint. She was flushed, her underwear was soaked, and her hands were clenches in her lap so as to not betray her. No, she needed to retreat. Now.

Standing up swiftly, Fleur looked down at the unsuspecting woman on her couch. "I do not feel very well, I think I am going to retire early," she said in a low, shaky voice.

Hermione paused the film and looked up with concern. "Okay, are you alright? Do you need anything?"

"Non, merci. I think I just need some rest. Bonne nuit," she fled down the hallway before the object of her desire could intercept her again. She truly didn't feel well. She was overheated, sweaty, and her heart was still racing, but she knew the solution was not rest.

She closed her door firmly and gulped in the fresh air of her own room. The atmosphere in the living room felt stifling as if it was filled with pheromones clouding her lungs and mind. Keeping the lights off, she moved to her bed as she she began pulling the drawstring on her sweats. Her hands were still shaking, but now it was in anticipation.

* * *

Hermione was still sitting in the dark room as the movie credits rolled. She would likely need to rewatch the whole thing. She had been more distracted tonight than usual, and she was surprised with herself at her lack of control. The past few days she had been more touchy with blonde, but in all fairness she thought she had kept it chaste enough to get away with it. Tonight was different though, and she mentally reprimanded herself for pushing too far. It was so hard to keep her hands away! She thought touching her hair would be an easy solution—Fleur had done it to her many times, had she not? Once she dug her hands into the smooth locks she was so very tempted to make it feel good for her, though. Deep down she knew she wanted a reaction. Fleur had obviously been uncomfortable towards the end. She left so abruptly Hermione wondered if it was because of her, or if she really did feel ill. The brunette thought on her actions again objectively, and decided that tomorrow she would apologise if she had crossed a line again. Better safe than sorry. She would have to reign it all back in again.

Dropping the wine glasses in the sink and turning off the remaining lights, Hermione made her way to her bedroom. As she passed her roommate's door she swore she could hear a moan, and her heart sunk at the thought of Fleur in pain. She should go in and make sure she was okay, surely. Did she have a headache? Was she throwing up? She heard another moan, louder this time, and her nurturing disposition won out over her worries about her roommate's privacy as she slowly pushed the door open. Quickly, she realised Fleur was most definitely not in pain.

In the dark room, she could just make out the blonde's naked body was covered in a sheen layer of sweat that glistened off the light coming from the bright moon outside. She was lying on top of her sheets, one hand palming her breast as the other circled her clit in smooth, repetitive motions. Hermione couldn't breathe as she watched her very own Aphrodite writhe and grind against herself. She felt like her essence had left her body. What she was witnessing couldn't be possible. Poetry in motion. Inhuman elegance. Metaphysical transcendence. It was out of body and still very much real. It was too much and not nearly enough. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see the blonde's breathy gasps were perfectly timed to her ministrations. She was glowing. Whimpering. Shivering. When Hermione thought it couldn't get any better, the blonde slipped two slender fingers inside her dripping center and a deep, guttural cry emerged from the back of her throat. Her pace picked up and her back arched and Hermione saw her thumb continue to massage her sensitive bundle of nerves.

Hermione could see she was getting closer. Hell, she could practically feel it herself. The heavy breathing that echoed around the dark walls were being matched by the young brunette still standing tall in the doorway. She couldn't move. Wouldn't move. She didn't care if the blonde saw her now, she needed to watch this. She wanted to see her unravel. Call it academia. Call it curiosity. Call it whatever the hell you want, but she couldn't leave.

Deft fingers were glistening as they disappeared and reappeared at a frantic pace between legs that were open and shaking. The hand on her breast was pinching her rosy nipple. Her lower lip was caught in a vice between her pearly teeth. A bead of sweat was running down her toned stomach. Her back was arching again as fingers pumped relentlessly. Her moans were louder, and louder, and louder.

Blue eyes finally flew open and saw the brunette standing there. Faster. Faster. Harder. She watched Hermione's eyes widen at the sight of hands pulling herself apart and, finally, her body was set ablaze as she tipped over the edge with a strangled sob, shuddering as waves of heat rocked through her bloodstream. Her heartbeat was pounding frantically in her chest as she slowed her movements to come down from such an intense orgasm. She was still seeing spots of technicolour behind her eyelids and she felt the nerves in the fingertips and toes simmer back down from their boiling point. She turned back towards the door and noticed it was closed.

 _Huh, perhaps I imagined it_ , she thought coyly. Not a bad fantasy at all, in her opinion. It definitely felt real, and she had never come that hard before. Her body was still humming as she lie there, boneless and sweaty, with a distinctly giddy smile on her face.

Meanwhile, Hermione closed the door to her room in a dreamlike trance. She was so aroused it was painful, but she couldn't possibly touch herself after witnessing such rapture. Right? Right. She pulled her covers over her shaky body and took a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling. She had seen her watching. That was a mistake, in retrospect, but she knew there was no choice in heat of the moment. Her brain was working overtime now. The brunette was worried about how awkward tomorrow was going to be, but more importantly, she was having a hard time getting the visual out of Fleur masturbating in the moonlight out of her head. It was going to be a long night, she sighed, getting up again to take a cold shower.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4! This has been fun. Hopefully the updates are quick enough. We're taking a short detour into actual plot today, enjoy!
> 
> French = bold  
> Thoughts = italics

Fleur was already awake by the time the brunette made it out of her room for breakfast. She wasn't able to fall asleep for a few hours after retreating to her room, and she spent the majority of the waking hours overthinking this very moment and replaying the short erotic movie that kept in her circulating in head. The blonde was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book and sipping on a cup of coffee. Hermione slowly emerged from the hallway, fully expecting the most awkward conversation of her life once she was spotted. As she stepped towards her, though, it would seem she was mistaken again.

"Bonjour, mon amie!" Fieur smiled broadly. "There is coffee in the press, and a spare croissant from this morning's market run if you would like it," she finished with a wink, before returning to her book in comfortable silence.

 _What the bloody hell is going on? Is this a French thing?_ Hermione wondered. Was the nation so open with sex that they didn't care if another person walked in and _watched_ them masturbating? To completion? However unlikely such nonchalant acceptance of voyeurism might seem in her own frigid mind, she was a woman of facts, and that was the only conclusion she could draw. Whew! Thank goodness it wasn't going to be unpleasant then. If the blonde was unabashed about the whole thing, then Hermione would absolutely not be the one to delve into it further. Though, she knew if the roles were reversed she would be absolutely mortified.

Grabbing a mug for herself and settling into her chair, Hermione inconspicuously eyed the woman who kept her up all night. The morning light was making her hair shine like a halo, and her skin looked tanned and supple. How she always looked so good in the early hours of the day, Hermione never knew. Come to think of it, she didn't think she had ever seen her look anything less than stunning. Perhaps it was the nature of what she saw last night, but the brunette couldn't help but feel butterflies in her stomach as she eyed the woman before her.

"Are you….feeling better?" she chanced the question, looking down to the swirling depths of her black coffee to hide her blush.

"Oh, oui. Much better, thank you," Fleur replied, still seemingly content to avoid any further discussion about it.

 _That's that, then._ "What, uh…what are you doing today?" Hermione asked, feeling a bit ridiculous, but willing herself to get over the embarrassment.

Fleur put down her book, finally. "Hmmm, I was thinking of going to the beach before going over to my mothers. She invited the both of us for dinner. I should have mentioned it earlier…" she trailed off nervously, not knowing if Hermione had any interest meeting her family or if she had other plans.

"Oh, I'd be happy to join you if that's alright? It would be nice to meet them," she replied smiling.

"Okay, but I must warn you, my mother is…quite different. I hope you do not mind. I think you will get along, but she can be very blunt," Fleur was trying not to feel anxious about the prospect of bringing the girl over there. She knew her mother was perceptive, but how perceptive she would just have to see.

* * *

The two roommates were having a wonderful day at the beach, soaking up the sunshine and jumping in the crystal blue water when they got too hot. Hermione was feeling less awkward as the day progressed, but she was acutely aware of how frequently she was glancing at the blonde's body. Thankfully, Fleur had not taken her bikini top off. When asked why, she shrugged and mumbled something about rather having tanlines on her breasts than creepy gazes.

Currently cooling off in the sea, Hermione was treading water as Fleur floated on her back with her eyes closed.

 _She is so incredibly beautiful,_ she thought for the tenth time today as her heart fluttered like a bird in its cage.

With a cheeky grin, she splashed water at the blonde's serene face, startling her out of her little moment.

The blonde looked over at her sheepish roommate, who was hiding her smile under the water. Fleur kept up her look of outrage, as if being wet in the ocean was a personal insult. Her outrage slowly took the shape of a predatory smile as she glided over to the brunette who was looking more nervous now. The look in the blonde's eyes made her feel like she was a target; a meal.

"You are going to regret that, ma cherie," she threatened, continuing her predatory glide as she began cornering her roommate into some rocks protruding form the cove's water.

"Now, Fleur, let's not be rash here," she tried to reason, realising she was running out of territory to escape to.

"It seems your confidence a moment ago has flown away now," she all but purred, now completely trapping the younger woman against a large flat rock by placing her hands on either side of Hermione's head. "Are you going to apologise to me, 'Ermione?" she whispered lowly in the brunette's ear.

Hermione was having a visceral reaction to her question and was thankful for the sounds of the ocean hitting rocks to cover the small gasp at the blonde's tone. Whatever started out as a little game felt like a lot more now considering the nature of what she witnessed last night. She wanted more of it. She met the animalistic eyes that preyed upon her.

"Are you going to make me, Fleur?" she replied defiantly, surprised by the sultriness in her own voice. The look of shock on the blonde's face was not lost of her, but she did miss the slight darkening of her blue eyes as she looked down to her roommate's lips, ignited by a pang of arousal at the teasing response.

"Maybe I will," Fleur whispered gravelly, and then she let her captive go before she _actually_ made a rash decision. Taking a deep breath, she tried to collect herself. "We should head back. We need to get ready for ma mère's," and she started swimming elegantly back to shore.

_Fuck!_

One more moment and Hermione would have lunged at the woman. The blatant aggression was not something she was familiar with, but found she liked it. Very much. Very, very much. So much, in fact, that she was berating herself by how close she was to actually kissing the blonde. With a shaky sigh, she dunked her head under the water to cool off again before making her own way back.

* * *

Hermione was completely speechless as she entered the Delacour mansion. The elegant foyer looked like everything was made of marble, but there were still reminders of it being a loving home. Family photos adorned the walls as they made their way further inside, and tasteful art pieces were hung that were obviously personal to the family. Each piece was a testimony to a holiday, art project, or memory, and the place felt like a museum just for their family. It was simply stunning.

As they made their way to the garden they spotted a pair of heels sticking out from behind a large manicured hedge. Rounding the corner, the woman in question looked up from a stack of papers she was reading and jumped up from the grass with surprising agility to hug her daughter with a squeal. Fleur's mother looked just like her, but somehow, impossibly, more regal. She was slim, yet shapely, and held herself as though she was royalty. Her short blonde hair framed her sharp features that looked so much like her roommates. She even had the same strikingly blue eyes that were now upon her.

 **"Hello Madame Delacour, my name is Hermione Granger. Thank you for for inviting me—your home is so beautiful,"** she said, opting to move to kiss the woman on both cheeks in traditional French custom rather than shake her hand.

'Ermione! Merci beaucoup, but I would much prefer to speak in your tongue while you are here, if that is alright? I love the practice," she winked with a giggle, holding onto Hermione's shoulder at arms length to get a good look at her. "And of course I would invite you! Fleur has spoken such good things I knew I had to meet this enigma."

Hermione laughed along as well, "Of course, Madame Delacour, this is your home we can speak however you would like."

"Oh, please, you make me feel too old," she exclaimed, letting go of her shoulder and waiving her hand at the formal title. "Please call me Apolline, ma fille."

Apolline Delacour was a lot like Fleur, but also very much not like Fleur. She was extremely intelligent and witty, and you could tell there was more to her hand than the cards she was showing. Unlike Fleur, she was also incredibly eccentric, and she laughed at just about everything Hermione said. She would walk into rooms presenting herself, as if making fun of her ridiculously lavish home, before taking Hermione's arm and gliding into the empty room waving at no one. She would bow deeply to all her staff, who shared smiles at their loving employer, bowing right back out of respect. As they toured the gardens, she slipped off her heels and all but demanded the girls follow suit so they could feel the warm earth beneath their feet. Fleur would blush heavily at all of these moments. She knew her mother was strange, and she tried to warm the brunette, but she was really not trying to reign it in at all tonight.

Hermione loved it. Everything about Fleur's mother and her home made her feel welcomed and comfortable. Dinner was a lovely affair. Gabrielle, Fleur's teenage sister was home for the summer and would soak up Hermione's time by babbling away in French about all of the embarrassing things her sister used to get up to as a child. Hermione could tell Fleur was not happy with these stories, so she changed the subject and asked about her school and classes. Fleur's father was away on business, but Apolline promised that one day she would have the chance to meet her husband.

As they made their way through all the courses, Apolline asked about Hermione's research, her family, and her plans for the future. It was clear she took a liking to the young woman immediately. Moving onto desserts, Apolline sat back in her chair, watching her daughter and her roommate closely. Fleur was taking a small bite of the crème brûlée and she could clearly see Hermione's eyes tracking the movement, and watching as Fleur licked her lips afterwards. The matriarch hid a smile at the two young women's antics.

"So, 'Ermione, we are basically like family. I have seen you kissing my daughter all over town now," she said with a devilish smirk, while Hermione choked on the port she was sipping. Fleur blushed and shot a dangerous look in her mother's direction.

"I, um, I—I, what happened was…I...We-" Hermione was stumbling, and bright red, surely. She looked at her roommate for help, but the blonde looked just as embarrassed and was currently glaring at the woman who posed such a statement.

"Oh, hush, now, I am just teasing you. Though I must say, you two look very nice together," she winked, before turning to her youngest daughter and whispering something in French in her ear. Gabrielle grinned excitedly.

 **"'Ermione, my mother says you like reading a lot! Would you like me to show you our library?"** the teenager asked, already sliding out of her seat to hold a hand out to the brunette, which she took without so much as a look back. Anything to get away from Apolline's teasing humour.

 **"Mother, what the hell?"** Fleur demanded as she watched the pair turn the corner towards the library.

She avoided the question, **"What is going on with you and 'Ermione?"**

 **"What do you mean?"** her voice wavered. She could see what was coming, but was not prepared to talk about it just yet.

 **"You are falling in love, non?"** the matriarch asked nonchalantly, sipping her wine and eyeing her daughter over the rim of the glass.

Fleur scoffs, looking away from her mother's scrutinising gaze. **"Love? No, not love, mother…I just…I'm not really sure how I feel."**

The blonde couldn't look at her, but it made no difference. She knew her mother would see through any lies she told.

Apolline felt sorry for her daughter. She clearly hadn't processed her feelings enough, and she would cut her some slack. Reaching for her child's hand, in a gentler tone she explained, **"I can see your energy, my Fleur, and I can see hers. You two circle one another like two parts in a solar system. Maybe you do not see it yet, but there is something there. Outside of sexual attraction, of course,"** she said pointedly to her daughter, who blushed a deep red now. How her mother always knew the nature and chemistry between two people was a great mystery.

 **"I don't think that is true. I like her, a lot, but she has made her intentions clear to me since the kiss,"** Fleur replied moodily, but feeling lighter as though a deep secret was now out in the open. It was good to finally say it out loud.

 **"Perhaps another conversation is in order then. Your time is limited, as you know, and I am rarely wrong about these things,"** Apolline said, before standing to kiss her eldest at the crown of her golden head and heading off to find her guest and troublemaker of a daughter.

Fleur sighed, dropping her forehead to the cool table. Damn her mother.

* * *

Hermione turned the key to their apartment, opening the door and spilling all her stuff at the entryway unceremoniously. She'd pick it up tomorrow. For now, she wanted to flop onto her bed and go right to sleep. Pulling off her shoes, she noticed Fleur hanging up her coat and putting her bag away. She gave the older woman a look, only to receive a shrug back.

"I know you're tired," Fleur said, moving to take the shoes at her roommate's feet to put them away as well before Hermione grabbed her wrist.

"You don't need to do that," she said gently.

"I want to. Thank you for coming today," the blonde said quietly, putting the shoes away and stepping towards her again.

 _Is she getting closer?_ Hermione couldn't think—she was so tired. She could see the darker flecks of blue in her bright eyes. The small scar below her eyebrow proving she was, in fact, human. _Beautiful_. She couldn't move as the woman leaned in, but her heart jumped in her chest and she slowly closed her eyes. _Please, please._

She felt a hand on her waist and soft lips pressing so very close to the corner of her mouth. One, two, three. Gone. She sighed.

"Sweet dreams, ma cherie," she heard her whisper before leaving the brunette alone in the tidy hallway.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

The final week of Hermione's research program was here. Her cohort had (almost) unanimously decided that going clubbing was the perfect way to celebrate their successes over the summer. Of course months of work in a research lab was perfectly culminated by getting plastered in a sweaty, dark room. Gratefully, Fleur agreed to accompany her. At least the two could make a hasty exit together if need be. So here she was, finding some "clubbing" attire, whatever that meant. She tried to ask Fleur for assistance, which turned out to be extremely unhelpful.

"Wear something sexy," she said, not looking up from the newspaper she was reading.

"Sexy? I don't own anything sexy—I'm Hermione Granger!"

"I am certain you will look great in anything, ma cherie," and that was the extent of that.

So here she was, staring at her painfully puritan-esque wardrobe in the hopes to be inspired by a wave of confidence and class. She didn't really have anything girly, such as dresses or skirts. That wasn't exactly her style. Sighing, she grabbed a white button up shirt and some black cigarette pants. This would have to do. She tucked in her shirt, leaving the top three buttons open and examined herself. Not bad, actually. With a wave of inspiration she went and grabbed the matching blazer she bought with it last year. It looked a little tuxedo-style, which would work for the evening. Grabbing a pair of black heels, she looked herself over in the mirror. The suit was slim-fitting, and with the heels she thought it was a perfect blend of feminine and masculine.

 _This might actually be okay_ , she thought approvingly. She felt good; confident. Looking at the time, she quickly pulled her hair into a sleek bun and applied some lipstick before heading to meet her roommate at the front door.

Closing her bedroom door, the brunette felt like she was struck by a bolt of lightning as she eyes the woman at the end of the hall. Fleur was dressed in a tight, silky light blue dress that stopped just above her mid-thigh accompanied with small matching heels . It was a simple dress design, with draping silk just above her breasts, and the back completely open, exposing her tan, toned back. Her hair was tumbling down to her shoulders in light waves. _My god._ Hermione was sure her mouth was at the floor. She could distinctly feel her heartbeat thudding in her ears and her stomach doing somersaults. Thankful that the blonde hadn't spotted her yet, she shook herself out of the stupor and began to walk closer to the ethereal beauty.

Fleur glanced at the clock again, wondering if she would need to knock on Hermione's door to get her moving. They really needed to start walking or they would be late. Turning around she finally looked up to see walking towards her.

 _Oh, mon dieu._ Hermione was dressed In a sleek black suit, heels, and tasteful makeup. Fleur had never seen her look so…so…handsome? Gorgeous? She didn't even know how to describe it. She looked perfect.

"'Ermione, you look….wow," she said excitedly. The beast in her chest was back. For a week it had been dormant after visiting her mother. She would look at Hermione with sadness and longing rather than burning passion, but now? Well, now she was struggling to remain composed. She shamelessly looked the young woman up and down; down and up. She felt hot. _I need fresh air._

"Fleur. You look incredible," the brunette said as she moved forward to kiss her on both cheeks. _Is she wearing cologne? Please, Goddess, strike me down now._ Fleur took a deep breath of the intoxicating scent before placing a hand on her arm.

"Merci, but we are late, mon coeur. We should go" she said quietly, flinching at the obvious term of endearment and hoping the brunette missed it. Hermione reached for the door and held it open without a word as the blonde desperately exited the stifling entryway.

* * *

The club was packed, but the small cohort and their guests were finally able to find a plush couch in the corner of the large room. Drinks were ordered, music was blaring, bodies were moving. Hermione and Fleur sat together on the end of the couch, nursing their third round of cocktails and feeling slightly more social and warm.

"I am going to miss you, mon amie," Fleur pouted, trying to quell the pain in her chest when she thought of the brilliant woman leaving her.

"I'll miss you too, Fleur! It's been so nice to spend the summer with you. I will definitely come back to visit you," she slurred a little, not used to drinking so much in a short period of time. "But hey, at least you can have your privacy back during your alone time again!" she laughed, sipping at her straw while the blonde looked over in confusion.

"What do you mean, alone time?" she tipped her head, confused by what the brunette meant.

"You know…" she laughed nervously.

"Non, I'm afraid I don't," Fleur looked incredibly confused. The young woman knew she wasn't playing around with her.

In a moment of clarity, Hermione stopped talking. _Did she not know? She didn't actually see me?_ It was extremely unlikely, but possible, she supposed? The room was dark, but she could have sworn she saw recognition in those cerulean orbs as the climaxed.

"Oh, nothing," she backtracked, "I just mean it must be hard to get some time alone when I am around all the time." She needed to change the subject before the blonde could analyse what she said. "Come on, let's dance." She tugged on her hand, thankful that the confusion adorning Fleur's face had changed to giddiness as she was pulled to the middle of the dance floor.

Hermione tried to relax into the music, but she was thinking in circles at her discovery. Should she tell the blonde she saw her? Keep it to herself? She knew it wasn't right not to say anything. She should apologise for invading her privacy, even though the blonde apparently wasn't aware that her privacy was infringed upon. On the other hand, maybe Fleur was ignorantly happier knowing she wasn't there. She obviously had a good night, why ruin the memory? Hermione couldn't decide which direction her morals were pushing her towards. Suddenly she felt hands on her waist.

"Stop thinking!" Fleur yelled in her ear over the bass, pulling her arms around the silky material on her waist. Hermione had removed her blazer and rolled up her sleeves an hour ago, thankfully, because she was burning now as the woman in blue rocked her hips to the sensual beat pounding against her ears. She could feel the bass reverberating in her chest as she tightened her grip on the woman's hips and began following her in time to the beat, letting go of her worries momentarily. Fleur was a really good dancer. Like really, really good. Hermione wasn't sure why she was surprised. Anything related to sex she seemed to excel at. It was the way she could feel the beat and time it perfectly with her gyrating hips. Her body would roll at just the right moment. She'd throw her hands in the air when things slowed down, and her head would fall back as her eyes closed in rhapsody. The brunette was uncomfortably aware of how her movements had her thinking back to when she watched her making love to herself. The drinks she consumed were helping her boldness this time though, and she gave up on her logical brain for a moment. _Stop thinking_. Feeling courageous, she closed her eyes and pressed against Fleur's backside, beginning to move in time with her. With heels on she could just see over her head, but instead she let her head fall into the crook of the blonde's neck as they moved together, wrapping arms around her to bring her paramour even closer, breathing in her scent now mingling with sweat that somehow made it even sweeter.

Fleur was in heaven with Hermione's arms wrapped around her and her body flush against her. They moved in sync to the rhythm, and the older woman gasped as she felt hips pushing into hers when she applied more pressure with her ass. _Yes, yes, yes._ Winding her arms up around the woman's neck behind her, she tilted her head back trying to get even closer. The club lights were flashing against her closed eyelids. Hermione was good at this. Fleur put her hands on top of the brunette's and moved them across her stomach, encouraging her to reach for whatever she wanted. Those hands moved down to the sensitive skin around her hip bones and gripped tightly as she ground into her. Fleur couldn't handle it anymore. The song changed. Turning around, she looked up into Hermione's dilated eyes, their blackness flashing colours every so often in time with the the strobe lights.

Fleur pressed the front of her body against the younger woman again, breast to breast, slipping a leg between her own. Wrapping her arms around her again she rocked against the taller woman in time with the slower beat. Completely aware that they were now fully grinding against one another's thighs, the blonde looked up again, running her short nails across the base of her neck. Hermione looked at her then. The two held each other's gazes as the lights and bodies pulsed around them. She wasn't sure if it was her or the brunette leaning in, but in a few more flashes of purple and blue light their lips were moving together.

Fleur was struggling to breathe. She couldn't think. Time slowed as Hermione, yet again, demanded access to to her mouth. She felt hands under her jaw, pulling her closer as a warm tongue slipped into her mouth. She sighed. Was it possible to once be whole without knowing it? It must be. She felt it again now. Hands moved to her hair, tightening and pulling at her scalp. She gasped, and the brunette bit down hard on her lip before running her tongue across it in consolation. She frantically set her hands in motion, overwhelmed by the pool of gasoline being set alight in her belly. Just as she took control over the tongue fighting for dominance, the brunette suddenly pulled away.

Eyed wide, she looked scared. The honey around her pupils was hardly visible.

"Fleur, I—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. I said I wouldn't. I just…I—I need to go," she said, shaking her head, she retreated swiftly through the swaying bodies. Fleur was shellshocked in the middle of the dance floor. Her lips were still tingling. Hands out as if she could still reach her. She let them fall. The absence of Hermione's heat shouldn't have felt so drastic, but she felt like shivering in the sweltering club.

She couldn't remember how she got outside, but the cold air whipped against the layer of sweat she had build up from dancing. Hermione was nowhere to be seen. Fleur's heart sank. That kiss, though wild—angry almost—yet again set her body alight with desire. It was more than that, though. She was in pain. Her body was aching. It felt like something evil was squeezing her heart, taunting her misfortune. At least before there was no rejection, but this? This was what she was scared of the whole time. Almost a month of keeping her feelings away, taming the creature inside her, and now look at her: tipsy and crying in the front of a busy nightclub. Pathetic.

What would her mother think? She was right, of course. _I am falling in love with her_ , she thought. So what? She was leaving in a week. She didn't like her back. At least, she thought she didn't, but the second kiss complicated things further, she realised. _Did I start it?_ Based on her reaction it sounded like Hermione thought she did. But then, if that was the case, then maybe she wanted it too? What was going on? She needed clarity. She thought of her mother again, of what she would tell her.

**You need to tell her how you feel, ma fille. You only know your own heart.**

_Right. How I feel._ She knew what that entailed. Fleur was weak when it came to emotions. She was not her mother, but she would regret it if she didn't do this. Resigned with her decision, Fleur sighed, wiping her tears and hailing a cab back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, you thought it was going to happen, huh? Chapter 6 will be a doozy, I promise :)
> 
> Much love,
> 
> Psychological_Top


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised a doozy so let's hope you like femslash. As always, enjoy x

Fleur practically bounded up the stairs to her apartment, only limited by the confines of her dress. The feelings of dread outside the club were quickly replaced with excitement at the prospect of telling Hermione how much she meant to her. She felt light and prepared. She knew this could drastically change everything, but regardless of what she said she will be moving on to a new chapter rather than stuck in this strange limbo. Tonight she would find answers. Forge a path, whatever direction that might be. Turning the key and stepping inside, Fleur made her way through the small home. She checked the brunette's room, no luck. Not in the office. As she turned the corner to the kitchen she found her at the kitchen table; still in her suit, hair up, barefoot, and looking much more disheveled than before they left. She was sipping on a glass of water, waiting for her. Fleur was nervous again.

"'Ermione," she said tightly, trying to slow her breathing after running up two flights of stairs. She needed to workout more.

"Fleur," she replied in a clipped tone. "We need to talk," she gestured to the seat at the end of the table. It felt so far away from her, but she took a seat anyways. Here it was. This was it. Her moment of rejection was so close that she wanted to flinch and close her eyes as if it would come in the form of a fist.

"I need to tell you something that happened the other day," she said it so quickly Fleur almost couldn't catch it. What she nervous too? "I…I walked in on you, the other night. I thought you knew, but I guess you don't, and I just need to tell you. I'm sorry."

"The other night…"

"Yes."

"When I was…?"

"Yes," her cheeks were red, but she didn't look away.

"That was real?"

"What was real?"

"I thought I…I thought it was my imagination…" Fleur couldn't believe it. That fantasy, or memory, she supposed, of Hermione's expression was so burned into her retinas she could easily replay it now. She was there, watching. How long? _Long enough_. But that meant…that meant…

"There's more," she said, interrupting her thoughts.

"Okay," she waited.

"I don't know how to explain this. I think it started at the protest, really, maybe even before then and I just didn't see it, but I…I like you Fleur. I know we've been through this before, and tonight was another example of me losing control and pushing you to do something you didn't want nor ask for." The brunette took a deep breath. It was so hard to talk about this, but she had to get it out. "The truth is I haven't been able to stop thinking about you…like that. And I have this uncontrollable desire for you all the time, and again, I know you don't feel the same way, but I just needed—"

"'Ermione," the blonde said.

"And I know this will make things uncomfortable, so I will move out early and find another place for my final week and—"

"'Ermione," a little louder.

"I may have to leave some larger things if that's alright, depending on space. I can coordinate so we don't see one another for the final move—"

"'Ermione!"

Silence. _Finally,_ thought Fleur.

The blonde stood up and crossed the space between them. Hermione couldn't figure out the expression on her face. She looked like she had been crying, oddly, but now her bloodshot eyes were burning with a startling intensity at the young brunette. _She must be angry, horrified,_ Hermione was shrinking in her chair at the approaching woman, waiting for the fury. A deep wave of shame blanketed her, and she looked down. She couldn't face her, not after sharing her heart. A tender hand reached her chin, and her face was pulled back up to those burning eyes. She closed her eyes, ready for the scolding; the anger; dismissal. But then soft lips pressed against hers for a moment, and her eyes shot open.

"Me too," Fleur spoke softly, but the burning in her eyes was still there, and now she could see it for what it truly was; hunger. Without thinking, she stood abruptly and pulled Fleur's face back to crash their lips together again as they moaned against each other. There was no holding back now. No protest, no music, no excuses. It was just them. Lips tangled, hands grabbed, teeth clashed. It wasn't violence, but there was no kindness. It was need, and craving. It was greed and appetite. And she was insatiable, she knew already. The pushing and pulling on their feet was not enough. Hermione whipped off her blazer, and Fleur got the idea as she frantically worked at the buttons on her shirt as the two moved backwards toward the hallway, unwilling to break their feverish kisses.

Fleur walked backwards into a wall, disoriented by the woman before her now pushing her against it further, moving her mouth down her neck. The blonde moaned when teeth dug into the sensitive skin on her pulse point. A jolt of electricity ran straight to her core, and she gripped her hands tightly in the young woman's hair, keeping her mouth there. A stronger bite. "Oh, merde!" she gasped, throwing her head back until it hit the wall. Hermione's hands were everywhere now. She ran them over her breasts and stomach. She grabbed her hips and started pushing up her dress, grabbing at the flesh she so needed to feel now. With a growl from the back of her throat and a yelp from the blonde, she yanked her off the ground as she felt legs wrap around her, still kissing as she walked them to Fleur's bedroom.

She tried to lay her down gently, but the blonde was nipping at her neck and ear while simultaneously trying to pull her shirt off and it was all too much. She essentially threw her onto the bed, ripping off the remains of her infernal shirt before descending back to swollen lips. They both groaned when skin connected. Fleur reached down to unzip her pants, while Hermione bunched her dress up enough so she could reach her ass. She groaned again and rocked her hips as she squeezed the perfect women beneath her, resulting in a whimper that lit a match under the brunette's skin. She needed more.

"Clothes," she demanded. Fleur nodded and moved to help her get the silky dress off. No bra _. Fucking hell._ The woman glowed. Radiated. She had seen all of it already, but this was different. This was for her. She hastily pulled her own trousers off and unclasped her bra. Placing hot kisses on her salty skin she made her way back up Fleur's waiting mouth. Fingers tangled in her messy hair again, pulling her in for more. Deeper. More. _Please,_ Fleur thought, gripping tighter, opening further _._ But then Hermione was slowing down. She was taking a deep breath, simply holding her as the weight on her chest shifted. _Why is she stopping?_ And then her hands moved again, but where it was frantic and needy before it was now decisive and intentional. Slow, rebuilding. She needed Fleur to feel her and see her. Whatever incendiary bomb that went off before was extinguished now. She had to put it out. It was embers and tinder now. A phoenix in the ashes. It was furling smoke that blackened their lungs and made it harder to breathe. It was smouldering and much, much more dangerous.

Hermione's desperate pace had changed, and though Fleur wanted fast and hard, this was what she needed. Crazied kisses were impatience and immaturity. They were selfish. Her rough hands turned to strong caresses as Hermione savoured her skin. She kissed down her neck and collarbone to the peak of her breast as her hands roamed across the expanse of canvas, colouring in lines and painting her own strokes. Rolling her tongue around the pert nipple, the brunette looked up to see unadultered desire in her lover's expression. Those blue eyes watched as the brunette bit gently on the rosy peak.

Fleur's back arched into her roommate's mouth. Hermione's tongue and teeth were driving her wild, but she wanted more. With impressive speed and strength, the blonde flipped them over, straddling her hips and reaching for her hands. She kept a hold of them as she began rocking against the woman's center. The brunette moaned softly at the feel of the woman's hips rolling against her. There would be no release from this, but good God it was fucking sexy. Fleur's hands, still capturing her lover's, moved them to her hips and breasts, guiding her where she needed her most.

Hermione was happy to follow. When Fleur moved her hands to her breasts she would roll a nipple between her fingers. When she moved them to her hips the brunette would grab and grind them to apply more pressure. When she moved them to her mouth Hermione would suck lightly on her slender digits. They worked together, perfectly in sync as the blonde continued to show her how much and where she wanted her. And this was her way. Her body was a language, her movements a dialect. It was easier to convey and communicate for her lover this way, and she so wanted it to speak in volumes of the things she felt for the woman beneath her. She continued to roll into her, but let go of Hermione's hands so she could pull her up for a kiss. Hands wrapped around her tightly as they continued to grind against one another. It wasn't enough now. She pushed against the woman's chest again, easing her onto her back again as she followed with a kiss to her lips. And another. One more. She shifted and kissed down her neck and breasts, but unable to stop for long. She knew what she wanted—she had been thinking about it for weeks.

Fleur wasted no time as Hermione felt a teasing tongue circling around her clit. There was something vibrating against her, shooting a few waves of pleasure to the base of her spine, and Hermione realised it was the blonde moaning.

 _"_ Fuck, Fleur," she sighed, not knowing what to do with her hands but settled for winding them in her hair. Fleur looked up, reconnecting as she watched Hermione's expression while she explored different patterns and techniques. This was the the most aroused she had ever felt. It was a humbling experience to bring such a strong, intelligent woman to a babbling, writhing mess with just a few small flicks of the tongue. She felt powerful. The crescendo of whines and moans were getting louder and more frequent.

"Please," the brunette was pulling her back up to her lips, desperation clear in her eyes. Tongues met, and Hermione groaned deeply as she tasted herself for the first time. She so wanted this to last, but whatever Fleur had done with her mouth had her wound so tightly she knew a few more simple touches would tip her over the edge. She gently pushed the blonde onto her back again, setting her own mouth to work. Probably leaving bites and bruises, Hermione reached a hand to her goal. With a gentleness, she swept a digit between Fleur's lips and couldn't hold back a gasp as she felt how wet she was. She found beautiful, dilated, bruise-coloured eyes looking at her with wonder and she slowly stroked up her silky folds.

"Ohh..," Fleur breathed. She was having a hard time keeping her eyes open for the woman touching her, but she forced herself to stay with her here. The brunette was taking her time, exploring. There was no rush. She wanted to know her like this; what she likes, how to make her eyes roll back, the way to make her back arch. She kept her thumb circling the bundle of nerves as she pressed a digit to her entrance, waiting. The blonde whimpered, grinding, trying to make it clear to keep going, but Hermione wanted to hear it. She circled and stopped, teasing, until Fleur snapped.

"Please!" And Hermione pushed two fingers inside.

 **"Fuuuuuck, oh my God, 'Ermione,"** Fleur moaned, not caring what language she was speaking anymore. She shifted her legs wider, granting more.

 _God, this is amazing,_ Hermione thought _._ She had never felt anything so wonderful. The warmth, wetness, and power around her was intoxicating. She set a slow pace, exploring more. She felt a hand on her wrist, pushing her farther in, showing her what was needed. She kept that depth and explored the walls around her. Curling her fingers a little made Fleur's hips rock in time to meet her, so she kept doing that. Hands found her face, pulling her into another searing kiss as she continued. Her lover was moaning into open-mouthed kisses, but as she kept her pace it was more difficult to make her tongue follow any sort of direction. She couldn't do anything but stare into the eyes right in front of her with her mouth parted, gasping and moaning with each thrust, muttering nonsense in French.

 **"Please, just like that. Yes, you're perfect. Oh, fuck. God, I am getting so close. I need you, please,"** she whispered urgently, and as Hermione felt a hand cupping her own sex in haste. She had to close her eyes at how sensitive she still was. The brunette was still thrusting, really trying to focus as she felt fingers slip inside her. They continued to move together. Breathy moans and gasps of pleasure filled the room as Fleur pressed her palm against her. Hermione couldn't help but cry out, and their eyes met again as they pushed each other higher and higher. Eyelids fluttered as they both sped up. They were breathing in each other now, noses almost touching as Hermione's legs started shaking. She could see Fleur now. She could see everything.

Fleur was so close. Looking into the wide, amber eyes she saw so much. There it was: ecstasy, heaven, nirvana. It was everything to see this. Her own body was starting to shake. Her fingers were tingling, toes curling.

 **"I love you,"** Fleur panted breathlessly, overwhelmed with emotion from gazing into that magnificent soul that was splintering her into pieces. Hermione's guttural scream was what finally threw her into the ether and she was free falling now and liquid fire was racing up and down her spine and fractals of lightning pulsed through every muscle, every cell. The blonde watched in awe as tears sprung from the corner of golden eyes as Hermione twitched and shuddered with her, waves of pleasure rocking and ricocheting against the boundaries of her flesh. She could only see blinding white for a moment, and her ears were ringing as she slowed her movements.

Fleur was slowly coming back to life. Was she ever alive before this? Was this rebirth? Resurrection? She wrapped her limp arms around Hermione's strong shoulders, letting her weight fall against her chest as their legs entwined. Breathing slowed, eyes closed. They drifted into a euphoric bliss. Letting the darkness envelop them comfortably, the last thing Fleur heard was Hermione mumble, "I love you too, Fleur," sleepily into her neck before it was all black.


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione woke to a warm body pressing against her front. She couldn’t help but smile as memories of last night came back to her. Her arms wrapped around Fleur more tightly, taking a deep breathe of her unique, floral scent. Looking to the window, she could just make out the golden and pink hues of sunrise peeking through the curtains. She jolted as a soft snore escaped from the blonde in her arms. _So that’s what woke me up,_ she thought, grinning and closing her eyes as her heart fluttered in her chest.

* * *

Fleur slowly became aware of her body as she peeked through her eyelids. Amused (and very awake) amber eyes were already looking at her as a smile slowly spread across Hermione’s face. She scrunched her eyebrows, wondering what the hell she was smirking at at this ungodly hour. Groaning sleepily, she reached to pull the woman into an embrace. It was too early to deal with whatever Hermione was all energised about. 

“You snore,” she said simply.

That woke her up. She gasped, pulling away in outrage to look at the cheeky woman still propped on her arm, watching her. 

“I do no such thing. I am a lady,” she replied, glaring now. 

Hermione laughed, moving to press a soft kiss to pouting lips. 

“You do, but it’s very cute,” she couldn’t stop smiling. Her heart felt full, yet weightless, but she sobered as she saw the expression on Fleur’s face change. They were both thinking about last night, and what it means for them. There were unknowns. Sex couldn’t solve everything, and she knew they needed to talk. 

“I…”Hermione started, unsure of what she wanted to say. How could she summarise her feelings after last night? And there was still trepidation that they were on different wavelengths, somehow. She needed to know, though. She took a deep breathe and gathered some courage before taking the plunge, but Fleur spoke first. 

“Please, let me go first,” the blonde said nervously. She needed to do this. She expressed many things with her body last night, but that was easy for her. This was the hard part, but it was important she get it out. 

“I meant what I said, ‘Ermione, I am in love with you,” she took a shaky breathe. “Last night was….indescribable. I have no words. I…I am so happy with you, and I realise now that I have had feelings for you for a very long time. Probably since you first arrived. You are the most wonderful person I have ever met, and you make me feel like a better person. And whole, somehow. I—I want this,” she gestured between them. “You. You and me. I know you are leaving, but I want to make it work. This has been so strange, and it might be difficult, but I can’t imagine moving on without you from here without trying.” 

There, she did it. She exhaled heavily, the nervousness in her stomach finally lifting. Hermione was looking at her in wonderment. She didn’t need to think it over, she was elated by Fleur’s admission. She reached forward and pulled her into a tight hug, kissing along her neck and shoulder. 

“I am so glad, Fleur,” she finally pulled back, smiling, tears threatening to spill in happiness, “I feel exactly the same. I want this to work. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know how happy I am when I’m with you, and I want to commit to it if you do.”

They were grinning like mad. It was real. Hermione felt the same, and this could actually work. Fleur pulled her into a searing kiss, overwhelmed with too many emotions to respond. Their tongues moved lazily together, as if they understood there was no reason to rush anymore. The blonde rested her forehead to the younger woman’s and sighed contently. Onward. 

Hermione started sliding out of bed, and tugged at her arm, “Come on, we need a shower, and I intend on making up for lost time these past three weeks,” she winked, before dropping her hand and walking to the bathroom in her birthday suit without a look back, seemingly aware that her lover was scrambling to get out of the sheets to follow. 

* * *

Two months. Two months of phone calls, text messages, and cute care packages. Two months since Hermione had seen her girlfriend. With her summer research program finished she was now working full-time at a lab in London that specialised in cancer treatment developments and gene expression. She was also offered an opportunity to lecture a few university courses at night in molecular biology. She loved it, but it was long, draining hours that left her little time to even think about a social life. Fleur was wonderful, though. She was always up for a phone call so Hermione could vent about her day, and she would send her chocolates and wine with personally written cards that made her blush as she recounted the things they would get up to next time she could see her. They weren’t sure when they could make the time to see one another next. Hermione would love to go back to France for a weekend, but she was usually working all weekend preparing for lectures or catching up on grading papers. Fleur was just as busy. She was in the final stages of her doctorate program, and spending a ridiculous amount of time preparing to defend the research she had spend the last four years working on. 

They knew it would work out in the end, but it was challenging and frustrating right now. Just when they found each other and could act on their feelings they were separated. The goodbye was awful. They had spent Hermione’s final week tangled up in sheets, cooking together, and refusing to put clothes on. It was perfect, surreal even, but it had to come to an end eventually. They both tried not to cry at the airport, but as they held each other tightly for the last time chins quivered and tears spilled over as they lost their grip of control over the situation. 

Hermione sighed, pouring herself a glass of wine as she eyed the stack of papers in front her warily. She knew it would do her no good to brood over it. She was glad they could make it work, and even though the situation was less than ideal, she was still happier than she ever had been before. Sipping on her wine, she settled into her chair to grade papers. Less than five minutes later she was startled by a knock on her door. 

_Strange,_ she thought. Looking at the clock on the wall, reading at half past ten in the evening. She reluctantly made her way to the door and pulled it open, warily. A middle aged woman in a baseball cap was holding a huge bouquet of roses. She looked at the card, and then at the brunette. 

“Hermione Granger?” she asked brusquely. 

“Yes,” she said, and reached out to receive the flowers. She knew who sent these, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Thank you.” 

The woman walked away, and Hermione closed the door, making her way to the kitchen for a vase before she heard a rapping at the door again. _What did she forget?_ Sighing, she turned to pull it open again to the woman with a question on her lips, but her breath caught in her throat at the sight before her. 

Fleur was there, dressed sharply in a grey coat, black jeans and boots. Blonde hair in a messy bun framing her face, she was holding a pink rose to her chest with a smile as she watched the brunette gape in the doorway. She stepped forward, holding out the rose to Hermione as she invaded the brunette’s personal space. 

“She forgot this one,” she said, mirth shining in her blue eyes. Hermione finally snapped out of it, dropping the flowers and flinging her arms around her girlfriend, planting a passionate kiss onto smiling lips. Fleur responded in kind, pulling the brunette closer, claiming her mouth as their tongues met again for the first time in months. They moaned together at the missed feeling. 

Hermione felt like crying she was so happy. She pulled away and held her girlfriend’s face in her hands, trying to memorise her again after such a long time apart. _Was she always so beautiful?_ She kissed her again, and pulled away with a smile. 

“How long can you stay?” she whispered, lacing their fingers together against Fleur’s chest. 

“However long you’ll have me, mon coeur,” she said, locking eyes. 

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, tilting her head. That didn’t make sense, however romantic it sounded.

“I finished early, and received an offer to work in London starting next month,” she explained, and watched in amusement as her girlfriend digested the news.

“So…so that means…,” she was usually so eloquent, but her excited brain couldn’t quite wrap her head around this quickly enough. 

“It means, ma cherie,” Fleur purred, placing her hands under Hermione’s jaw, “that I am in need of a roommate again.” She pulled her in for a kiss again, and the younger woman all but melted into the embrace with the realisation that they would finally be able to begin the rest of their lives together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed the process. It was fun developing a storyline and characters a little bit, however lacking it might be in these short 7 chapters. Maybe I'll be tempted to write a longer one soon :)
> 
> Much love,
> 
> Psychological_Top x


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